Never have I ever
by TiTivillus
Summary: When a harmless drinking game among friends takes a turn for the worse, the boys are faced with unresolved issues from the past. Hurt/Comfort


**Title: "**Never have I ever"

**Summary: **_When a harmless drinking game among friends takes a turn for the worse, the boys are faced with unresolved issues from the past._

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to Supernatural. Just borrowing the boys for a little fun :)

**Warnings: **rated K+ for swearing and implied references of violence and past abuse

**A/N: **Takes place before Kevin's death, so prob. season 7 or 8. Around that time ;) Doesn't really relate to the actual story-arch of the seasons.

* * *

**_ Speak when you are angry and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret- Laurence J. Peter_**

* * *

"So let me get this straight–" Sam clarified, staring at his older brother from where he was leaning over a book in the bunker's library.

"You wanna play a drinking game with a prophet, an ex-hacker and an angel of the lord?"

"Not just any drinking game, Sammy," Dean corrected with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. "It's the best party-game ever. Apart from strip-poker, obviously."

Sam shook his head in mild amusement. "Yeah obviously..." he repeated, rolling his eyes at his brother's antics, as he reached for the bowl of popcorn on the table in front of him.

Dean slapped his hands away with a warning glare. "Dude! I told you to leave the food untouched until everybody's here."

Oh right, how could he have forgotten. Dean had slaved away in the kitchen for the better part of the day, preparing all kinds of snacks for their guests while Sam hadn't even been allowed in the vicinity of food. Even now he still wasn't allowed to touch anything because Dean was too afraid he might inhale all their snacks and leave nothing for their guests.

The table in front of him was loaded with all kinds of delicacies, bowls of crisps and gummi worms next to a plate with sandwiches and another bowl with a fresh garden salad. In between Sam had set up a few cooled cans of beer as well as an old dusty bottle of wine that Dean had found somewhere in between the canned fruit in their pantry.

He only hoped the wine was still palatable, because Charlie wasn't particularly fond of beer, but then again- didn't wine get better with ripe age or something?

"Did you get a hold of Jodie?" Dean asked, carrying a bottle of Whiskey over to the table along with their finest set of crystal glasses. "Uh...yeah. She said she was sorry she couldn't join us. Station called her in for a night shift."

"That blows..." Dean grimaced and shot Sam a brief look, almost as if to check his reaction to the sherriff's cancelation. His older brother was aware that Jodie and him got along quite well- better actually than Sam did with anybody else in their small circle of friends. Apart from Cas maybe. But Sam wasn't about to let himself be dragged down by the bad news. After all, there were plenty of other people around to talk to and have a great time with.

"It's fine, Dean. I'm glad we are actually doing this. It's been a while since we last invited people over just for fun."

Actually, Sam couldn't even remember when they had ever done something like this before. It felt strangely 'domestic' to invite friends over for a dinner and some beers. It felt normal.

"Where is Charlie anyway?" Sam asked, getting a little impatient.

Their red-haired friend had arrived about 20 minutes ago, hugged them both and handed over a bowl with home-made guacamole before rushing off to find the 'Ladie's room', promising to be right back.

Sam couldn't help but cringe at the terminology, because while the bunker was about the most luxurious place Dean and him had ever gotten to call a 'home', it had nothing that was even remotely lady-like, least of all a nice and shiny bathroom or whatever else Charlie might be expecting.

"Think she got lost?" Dean questioned, but before Sam could answer they were interrupted by a soft flutter of wings signaling Castiel's arrival.

They both looked up in time to see the angel appear at the end of the table and Sam used his brother's distraction to secretively snatch a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"You're late, Cas" Dean chided softly before taking another sip from his beer.

"I apologize. There were urgent matters of heavenly–"

"Wow, wow, wow. Stop it right there, buddy. This is our night off, alright? So that means no chit-chat about your harp-playing angel friends or anything else related to heaven, capiche?"

Cas looked at Dean, brows creased in confusion when Charlie suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking somewhat irritated.

"Look what the cat dragged in. I was gonna send a search party after you if you took any longer."

"Ha ha..." the red-hair responded, crossing over to the table. "Seriously guys, how many rooms does this monstrosity of a building even have? Next time if you send me off somewhere, try giving me a floor plan first."

"Oh excuse us, your highness. Is our fortress of bad-assery too big for you?" Dean teased with a sly grin and earned himself a light punch to the shoulder.

"You better watch your mouth when you talk to the queen, handmaiden."

Sam watched their banter with a small smile on his lips, knowing that there were only few people in their lives that could make Dean happy like this, causing him to throw his head back in laughter, lips stretched wide and skin crinkling at the corner of his eyes.

It was such a rare thing to behold, that Sam felt an intense gratitude towards Charlie for bringing out a lighter, happier side of his brother. A side that Sam didn't get to see very often anymore.

"You wanna take a seat, Cas?" Sam suggested after another moment, upon noticing that the angel was still somewhat awkwardly standing next to the table.

Cas hesitated for a second before taking Sam's offer. "Alright fellas, I hope you're hungry..."

Dean grinned, rubbing his hands in giddy anticipation. Then, almost in afterthought he turned around and started hollering, gruff voice echoing loudly through the hallways of the bunker. "Kevin get your ass down here already or we're gonna start eating without you!"

Two minutes later and Kevin had joined them, looking slightly sleep-deprived, black hair disheveled and shirt crumpled as he plopped down on the seat at the corner of the table.

"Sorry. I must have lost track of time–" he timidly explained before going for the garden salad.

Dean rolled his eyes at the prophet, before getting himself a sandwich from the plate.

"Dig in, guys," he urged and everyone started passing dishes and loading plates.

"You never told me you could cook," Charlie piped up excitedly around a mouthful of home-made tuna sandwich.

"That's because he just recently discovered his potential as a Stepford housewife," Sam deadpanned, earning himself an angry glare in return.

"Keep it up and this will be the last time your ungrateful ass gets to taste my top level cuisine."

Sam laughed and Kevin snorted into his salad.

"Something you got to say, Kev?" Dean challenged, eyebrows dragged up to the hairline as he munched on his sandwich.

"It's just... you are way too much of a mother hen to refuse Sam anything if he asked you for it."

"Awwww..." Charlie cooed, looking from Dean to Sam and back again with a weird fondness in her eyes. "You two are so cute with all that brotherly love. It's just like in the books..."

"Kill me now," Dean groaned letting his head drop forward onto the table plate. Sam chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed himself and trying to hide his blush behind his salad bowl. "These goddamned books are gonna haunt us forever, aren't they?"

"You betcha," Charlie winked with a playful smile before looking at Cas, who had been silent throughout the whole dinner without touching any of the food that Dean had prepared.

"Aren't you gonna eat anything?"

"I do not require food to survive like humans do."

Dean feigned annoyance and wiped his own fingers with a discarded napkin, leaning back in his seat. "Well you sure as hell missed out on something."

Kevin agreed with an enthusiastic shake of his head, while Charlie proceeded to refill her plate with salad and crisps.

"Now apart from all that, who's up for a game after we finish here?"

Sam suppressed a groan, having thought his brother had already dropped the idea of the stupid drinking game.

"What kind of game?" Kevin wanted to know, eyes narrowed almost suspiciously. Kid was too clever for his own good, probably already sensing that there was more to Dean's suggestion than a simple game of _Charades _or _Risk_.

"Yeah," Charlie sided with Kevin. "Are we talking XBox or PS3, because dudes- there really _IS_ a difference between these two."

"Does this place look like we have super high-tech game support? I was talking about another kind of game, actually."

"Dean..." Sam sighed in annoyance. "Nobody wants to play your stupid drinking game, alright? Why don't you drop it already?"

"Come on, guys! This is supposed to be a celebration! Loosen up a little and let's have some fun."

"I do not indulge in alcohol consumption Dean," Cas protested weakly, as if the words were testament to how he would certainly not be amused by such a game. "Not after I drank my last liquor store."

Sam couldn't help the soft snort that escaped him, remembering all too well how drunk Cas was on that particular night after he came home from a 'bender'. They certainly didn't want a repeat of that night.

Kevin was the next one to protest. "I don't know guys... you know what they say about Asians, right? I'm a lightweight."

"All the more fun, then!" Charlie cheered, high-fiving Dean. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm in. Let the games begin and all!"

"Alright, that's the spirit," Dean approved and reached out to drag the whiskey closer, pouring 5 glasses quarter-full. "So the game's goal is to remain as sober as possible, while getting the others drunk. You start of a sentence with 'I've never...' and then add something that's true for yourself like for example "I've never driven a cheap-ass trash car" and it's basically bottom's up for everybody whose car isn't as badass as my baby."

"You can't be serious about this," Sam groaned as Dean distributed the glasses of Whiskey.

"Man up, Sammy. This is gonna be fun."

"Dean–" Cas interfered, pushing the glass away from himself when Dean put it down on his side of the table. "I really don't think this is an appropriate game for me."

"Shut up and listen, Cas, I'm gonna start now," Dean announced before leaning forward in his seat. "Never have I ever turned my back on a hunting case."

Sam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You're being unfair, Dean."

After all, their friends weren't hunters, so killing monsters wasn't really part of their daily routine.

"Can't change the rules of the game, Sammy."

Charlie and Kevin exchanged a glance before drowning their glasses with matching grimaces.

"Alright, my turn," Charlie cut in cheerfully. "I've never NOT been a fan of the Supernatural book series by Chuck Sherley."

Dean and Sam shot her a threatening look, before drowning their liquor at the same time and Kevin followed somewhat reluctantly.

"Actually, we lived through it, so this shouldn't be valid. But since you're new to the game I'm willing to turn a blind eye..." Dean explained.

"I don't even know what she's talking about. This isn't gonna end well for me, is it?" Kevin murmured, eyes still squeezed shut from the burning of the alcohol.

Sam shot Dean a warning glare before turning to face the teenage prophet. "You really don't have to do this, Kevin... It's just a stupid game, alright?"

"Naw.. I'm fine," Kevin bravely uttered, straightening in his seat. "Never have I ever failed an exam?"

Dean lifted the glass to his lips almost instantly and then lowered it again when he saw that neither Sam nor Charlie were moving. "Seriously?" he groaned "Never?! Wow... What kind of geeks do I surround myself with?"

He shook his head before gulping down the Whiskey, not even flinching at the familiar sting the alcohol as it ran down his throat.

"I am not sure I understand the rules of this game," Cas threw in from the side, looking a little lost as he tried to understand what was going on around him. "Is this some sort of reverse psychology?"

"You know what, Cas?" Sam laughed softly. "Never mind, alright? My turn now..."

He would of course never admit it to anybody, but he was starting to find this quite entertaining. "Never have I ever cut my hair short."

"How short is short?" Dean asked with a frown. "I mean it's not like we can take that girly mop on your head as a standard measure."

"Shut up and drink," Sam shot back, flipping his brother off with a chuckle.

When they were still younger, Dean would sometimes let his dirty blond hair grow out a little, but their father used to trim it back whenever he got the chance, explaining that it would be more convenient to have short-cropped hair when they went on hunts. Idly Sam wondered, why his father had never done the same thing to him, when Sam got old enough to help them out on the job.

"You know that this means war, right?" Dean ripped him out of his thoughts with a dangerous smile on his lips. Sam held his gaze, smiling right back at his big brother, feeling bold. "Bring it on."

"Never have I ever been married," Dean said, causing Sam to shoot an unmistakable death glare into his direction.

"Becky whammied me, Dean!" the younger brother argued heatedly.

But Dean merely shrugged his shoulders with a gleeful smile. "Doesn't matter."

"I hate you." Sam uttered before gulping down the Whiskey and setting his glass back down.

Charlie chuckled and drew her legs up to her chest, leaning back in her seat. "I have never had a relationship that lasted longer than a year. And wow- that probably should bother me more than it does."

Dean shook his head, chuckling softly, while Sam and Kevin raised their glasses. "Don't worry sweetheart. You haven't seen my track record yet..."

"I've never had my own apartment outside of college," Kevin took his turn, causing only Charlie to drink.

"You guys are so weird," the hacker slurred softly and started giggling.

"I have still not grasped the purpose of my visit–" Cas piped up unexpectedly and sending them all off into roaring laughter.

"Shut up and drink, Cas."

"Alright, cut it out," Sam threw in, silencing them all. "I have never had a threesome."

To his defense, Sam would absolutely have not shared that tidbit of information if he hadn't already been drunk.

There was a second of tense silence before Dean and Charlie raised their glasses. Then they both broke out into laughter.

"Seriously Sammy, what the hell have you been doing in college?" Dean teased his brother, who glared back in response. Then he turned around to look at Charlie who had flushed a deep scarlet.

"Don't even ask, Winchester."

"I have never slept with a guy," Charlie continued smugly and then dropped her smile again when nothing happened. Dean and Sam exchanged an awkward, somewhat uncomfortable look, but they didn't move to lift their glasses and neither did Kevin.

"Huh..." Charlie muttered. "I should have seen this coming."

"I really don't understand... Why are most of the questions related to human coitus?" Cas wanted to know, sending Dean off his stool in hysteric laughter. Sam wasn't far behind, feeling his cheeks hurt from the strain of laughing so hard and Charlie was wiping tears from her face, trying to regain her composure.

After that, pretty much everything said and done became funny as hell, and Dean had to get another bottle of Whiskey when the first one was emptied nearly 2 hours after they had started the game.

They went on, round after round, question after question, the game continuing as more and more secrets came to light. Kevin nodded off at some point, snoring softly in his stool, while the rest of the group got gradually more drunk over the duration of the game.

"Alright. This is gonna be good," Dean announced wisely, swaying slightly on his seat as he met his brother's glassy eyes over the table. "I have never banged a demon chick."

Sam felt the words hit right home, feeling sober again in the flash of a second. But Dean was already gone too far to notice the crestfallen look on his little brother's face.

Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, Sam clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring with angry defiance. "Oh yeah? Well I've never been torturing demons in hell."

Dean's face grew stone cold in an instance and his eyes narrowed. The sudden change in mood was palpable. "That's right, evil me... and remind me of why I was there in the first place?"

"Guys...let's not turn this into something you're gonna regret, okay?" Charlie said placatingly, raising her palms up in the air to stop the fight from going any further. But it was useless.

Dean ignored her and leaned forward in his seat, eyes boring into Sam in.

"But hey, at least it was only demons I hurt. Could have been worse, like turning on an innocent- or you know...my own fucking brother –"

Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat, cheeks flaring as he lowered his head in embarrassment. Dean's words cut him deeper than he'd ever thought possible. Having all of these things thrown back into his face- even now, years after it had happened, made him feel small and insecure. Worthless.

As if he could never be forgiven for the terrible sins he had committed. As if all the penance he had done still wasn't enough to redeem him in the eyes of the one person who mattered most to him.

"You know that was because of the demon bl-"

"Oh yeah, my bad. _The demon blood_. How could I forget? But what about Stanford? What about when I was rotting in Purgatory and you didn't lift a fucking finger to look for me- what about that?! Huh? Was that the demon blood, too?!"

"It doesn't even matter what I'm doing, does it, Dean? No matter how many years have passed, no matter how many times I try to redeem myself- no matter what I say or do- you will never let me live any of this down. You will never forgive me. Not really."

"Sam..." Charlie interrupted from the side, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe we shouldn't–"

Sam bit his lower lip, curling his fingers into fists. "Or maybe we should. Get it all out in the open," he raised his head again, looking straight into Dean's glazed eyes. "You wanna play your stupid game?! Well fine then, let's play."

Sam took a deep breath, eyes glassy with tears and gaze never wavering from his brother as he stood from his seat.

"Never have I ever told you to pick a fucking hemisphere and get lost. I have never called you out for wanting your own slice of normal with Lisa and Ben- or for playing Golf and having BBQ's while I was rotting in the cage. I've never blamed you for getting me from Stanford when Dad disappeared, or for Jessica's death. I have never tried to commit suicide without so much as a backwards glance or a simple goodbye. I have never thought that you weren't worth the trouble, never told you that you were a burden, or a blood-sucking freak that wasn't worth saving. I've never hated you, Dean–" his voice caught in his throat. "and I've never thrown our brotherhood into a fucking trashcan."

Sam's whole body was shaking when he finished and for a few seconds the bunker was eerily silent.

Dean stared at his brother in shock and Charlie was toying with a loose thread on her pullover, idly wondering if she could somehow bring the ground to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

"Sam, I never-" Dean finally started, voice filled with regret and sadness.

But Sam wouldn't have it. He rubbed a hand over his worn-out face before swallowing, eyes averted. "I'm going to bed. Don't come after me."

"Sammy–" Dean called out after him when Sam pushed away from the table.

"Shut the hell up, Dean."

Dean stared after his brother forlornly as he left the room and then flinched at the distanced echo of a door getting thrown into its lock with way too much force.

Kevin murmured something in his sleep and Castiel made lame excuses before fluttering off to god-knows-where.

"Fuck...Goddamnit." Dean swore, burying his face in his hands. Charlie rested a tentative hand on his shoulder, not really sure what to say.

"I-I'm sory you had to hear that- I... I don't know what happened. One second we were laughing and then –" Dean tried to explain, breaking himself off halfway through the sentence.

"And then you were being stupidly, irrationally angry with each other for things that have happened years ago and no longer hold any significance over your lives?" Charlie suggested.

Dean sighed. "...yeah, I guess."

"Well don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us." Charlie joked and Dean responded with a weak smile that didn't really reach his eyes.

"Do you mind if I–"

"Oh god, please go after him before you pop a vein or something."

Dean got up from his seat, ready to follow his brother and hash things out, when Charlie called him back.

"Dean? Don't be too hard on him, alright? He looked really devastated there for a second."

"I won't."

* * *

His footsteps echoed through the empty hallways of the bunker as he slowly made his way towards Sam's room.

He had never really given much thought to the fact that out of all the vacant space they had available his brother had chosen the room at the far end of the corridor to live in.

The one furthest away from Dean's. Yet another form of Sam trying to keep his distance.

Being all independent and shit.

Go figure.

Coming to a halt before the closed door, Dean swallowed, feeling stupidly insecure and scared of the impending argument.

It wasn't like he had purposefully said these things to hurt his brother earlier.

And yet here he was, feeling the guilt of his own accusations weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Why did things between them always have to be so difficult?

Dean sighed, steeling himself before raising his fist to knock against the door, but just before his knuckles could make impact, Dean pulled them back again, frowning.

_Screw this!_

Since when did he have to ask for permission to see his brother?

They had never really known privacy anyways with the way they'd been living in each other's pockets throughout their lives.

He wrapped his fingers around the knob with determination and pulled the door open.

"Sammy, I-" his voice faltered when he noticed the open duffle bag on Sam's bed, half filled with T-shirts and jeans.

"What's going on?"

"What does it look like?" Sam gave back quietly, no real fire in his voice as he picked up one of his favorite plaid flannel shirts and folded it before putting it on top of the pile of clothes in his duffle.

He didn't look up at Dean, just continued with the task at hand as if this discussion might as well already be over.

Something dark and ugly tore its way through Dean's insides, wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing, hard.

"So…" he swallowed, mouth going dry. "That's it, you're leaving?"

He hated himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

For still feeling like that lost little kid that would watch his father's back turn and walk out the motel room door every time Sammy got up and did the same.

He should be used to it by now- should know that nobody ever really wanted to stay by his side, least of all Sam, who had tried to escape their broken family at every possible chance he got.

Sam didn't turn around at first, but he halted his movements, body going absolutely still.

Time came to life and stretched between them like hot molasses, filling their throats and threatening to choke them.

And in that moment Dean swore he could see a lifetime of brotherhood go down the drain.

He didn't need to look into his brother's face to know what his answer was going to be.

"Yeah…" Sam looked up for the first time in what seemed like eternity and Dean could see tears in his eyes, could hear them in his little brother's voice when he talked. "Yeah. This is it."

The meaning behind the words was unambiguous.

This wasn't just their run-off-the-mill fight with a big fallout and an even bigger reconciliation, like they had done it so many times before.

This was more serious. More final.

This was goodbye.

Dean felt every cell in his body protest at the thought.

He felt his soul wither and die in his chest at the mere prospect of parting ways with his brother for good, burning bridges and never looking back.

He wasn't ready for this, had in fact- never been ready for this.

And maybe that was the root of all their combined family issues right there.

"Sammy, don't go–" Dean blurted out, words bubbling up in his throat before he had a chance to bite them back.

There was a pleading quality to his voice, the familiar nickname rolling off his tongue way too easily, years of practice evident in the tidal wave of emotions that flooded his heart.

"I'm sorry–"

He knew he didn't say it often enough. He should have apologized more often for all the stupid things he said in the heat of the moment, for every damn' time he ended up hurting his brother's feelings.

_I'm sorry, Sammy. Forgive me, don't leave me. Please, god- please don't leave me._

"This isn't working out, Dean," Sam sighed heavily, staring up at the ceiling and blinking, before looking back at his brother with a soft glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

"You know… you were the one to always say we'd start anew, clean slate and all. Let the bygones be bygones and yet you stand here with contempt in your eyes and spew all this nasty shit in my face like you don't even _care_-"

Sam's voice broke off, his face pinched and eyes glassy.

He sniffed and looked down, twisting the strap of the duffle in his giant fingers.

Dean took a step forward, pulling the door closed behind him, not wanting anybody to listen in on their conversation.

If this was the last chance he'd get to talk to his brother, it would be just between the two of them.

"I _do_ care," Dean said, trying to put as much conviction into his words as possible. "Man, you gotta know how much I do, Sammy… it's just… sometimes I get angry and say stupid shit before thinking it through."

"And that right there is the worst thing, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, driving a hand through his hair in aggravation.

"You don't think! You just say the first thing that comes to your mind, which means even if you pretend we're all good, we're really not, because…" he hesitated, "…because inside you still remember every single mistake I ever made. Like you're keeping count and you're just waiting for me to mess up again, so you can add whatever happens to the list of 'Sammy's greatest hits' in your mind."

"Oh give me a fucking break," Dean protested. "You make it sound like I'm trying to purposefully ruin this relationship, when all I ever did was trying to hold this family together."

"And a bang up job you did on that!" Sam snapped, his voice booming through the room and cutting through every single layer of self-protection Dean had ever built up around himself, right through all of his defenses and into his vulnerable, broken heart.

Sam regretted the words the second they passed his lips, but it was too late to take them back.

He hadn't meant to say them, hadn't even dared to think them and he fully expected Dean to freak out over them.

But when he risked a fleeting glance into his big brother's direction, expecting to find unabashed anger in his brother's glare, he found something else instead.

Dean was staring off at a blank spot at the wall, face void of emotion.

His eyes were wide, his skin pale, breathing going even and body uncharacteristically still.

"Dean, that was… I don't–…" Sam stuttered awkwardly, before letting go of the duffle bag, sinking down on his bed and heaving a sigh. "I didn't mean that."

Dean rubbed his forehead and shook his head, pressing his lips together.

"Dean, please… "

"You know what, Sam?" Dean asked quietly. "Go."

There was a beat of silence.

"If you wanna leave so badly, fine, don't let me stand in the way of your happiness. That's what you've always wanted in the first place, wasn't it? A normal life, away from your pathetic, spineless grunt of a brother who kept holding you back from that slice of normal you want so bad."

"_Don't you freaking dare_–" Sam growled, features lighting up with rage as he shot up from the mattress and got right up into Dean's face. "I dropped **everything** and went with you when you came to get me from Stanford. I spent the past 10 years of my life by your freaking side, Dean!"

"Yeah, you did," Dean gave back with a humorless, shaky laugh. "Too bad it made you miserable."

The words visibly sobered Sam up, every last bit of anger draining from his face and turning into bitter frustration.

"That's not true…" Sam croaked out, shaking his head. "You don't… Dean you _don't _make me miserable." He takes a shuddery breath. "It's not that… I just think that being together all the time- it's no longer working for us. Obviously, there are some things we can't get past and I can't keep pretending we're all dandy when we're not."

"What _things_, Sam?!" Dean asked, eyes sparking with desperation as he stared intently into his little brother's eyes. "I told you I didn't mean all that crap I said back there."

"Maybe you didn't mean to say it to my face, but that doesn't mean you didn't still think so. Even after all these years, you still haven't forgiven me for what I did. You still don't trust me like you used to."

Dean huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Okay, hang on a minute. First off, that's bullshit. I do trust you and if I haven't proven that to you often enough during the past years, I seriously don't know what I can do to convince you. And secondly, I wasn't the only one throwing around with accusations out there. Care to tell me what that whole shit about you being a freak and me hating you was all about?"

Sam recoiled from the words as if they were physical blows, face growing stone-cold and distant in the blink of an eye. His skin blanched and his pain-filled eyes dropped to the floor.

"Sammy…?" Dean pushed gently, feeling increasingly uncomfortable at his brother's sudden resistance to the topic.

He frantically searched his mind for a moment in his life where he had said any particularly mean or hateful things to Sam and couldn't come up with anything similar to what he was getting accused of.

Not even when they were at their lowest points in life, had Dean ever told his brother that he _hated_ him. The mere thought was ridiculous. As is Dean would even be able to...

He had also never called him a blood-sucking freak. Or a monster, for that matter.

"Just…_don't_, okay? It's been a long time…can we please _not_ talk about this?" Sam pleaded, looking drained and tired.

Dean gave him a skeptic look, forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"Sam… I honestly can't remember having said any of that to you, okay? So whatever you think you've heard–"

"Oh you said it alright," Sam said with a sad, humorless chuckle, "–believe me, when your brother flat-out tells you he's given up on you… that he's going to… -that you're nothing but a… a _blood-sucking, evil freak that needs to be taken out_–"

"Whoa, hold on for a second," Dean cut him off, staring up at his brother with an incredulous look on his face. "When the hell did I say that?!"

A flicker of confusion alit his gaze, before it was washed away in the sea of sadness in his eyes.

Sam's lips trembled and he looked as if he was barely holding it together.

"Look… it's alright, okay? It happened a really long time ago and it's not like I didn't deserve it after… after what I did to you…"

"Sam, what the hell are you even talking about? I'm serious here, I can't recall ever having said anything like that to you–"

A flash of anger crossed Sam's features, but he swallowed it down before it could evolve into something fiercer.

"Yeah, sure. Okay," he said under his breath, tone defeated. "Forget I ever said anything…"

He took a step back, making it pretty obvious that he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment but here, physically distancing himself from the situation.

But Dean's hand shot forward before he made a conscious decision to move, grabbing a hold of Sam's wrist and pulling him close.

"Sam–"

"Just fucking forget about it, okay?!" Sam hissed, tugging uselessly at the fingers that were wrapped around his arm like a vice.

"No, not _okay_. You were the one who started this crap and now we're gonna talk it out," Dean insisted, unwilling to let this unresolved issue go when it was so obviously still hurting Sam.

"When did you hear me say that? Was it a nightmare, or a hallucination? You told me you were hallucinating when you went through the detox, so maybe–"

"It wasn't a freaking hallucination, alright!" Sam burst out, cheeks flaring red and eyes stormy with emotion as he ripped himself viciously out of Dean's grasp and hastily stumbled a few steps away to create a distance between their bodies.

"Why can't you just_ let it go_, Dean? You never addressed the fucking voicemail before- not once in all these years and now you suddenly…" Sam stopped upon noticing what he'd just said.

"Wait, what_ voicemail_?" Dean frowned and Sam choked on a sound that was half laughter- half sob. It sounded terrible.

"Look let's not go any further than this, alright? Let's just pretend it never happened. It doesn't matter anyway… I'll just pack my stuff and go–"

"Like hell, you will!" Dean shook his head, now more determined than ever to find out what the hell Sam was being so upset about.

Sam looked at him as if he wasn't sure what to make of Dean's reaction, as if Dean should _know_ what was going on.

He looked betrayed and deeply wounded- eyes flashing with the kind of hurt that came from years of unspoken guilt and sorrow.

"Look, I need you to help me out here, man. Just tell me what this is all about and I swear I'll let you go right afterwards if that's what you want."

Sam made a guttural sound of protest, biting his lower lip and then finally – albeit hesitantly nodded his consent. "After our fight… in that hotel room…"

Dean didn't want to think back on that day.

It had been one of the worst freaking days of his whole life and that was saying _a lot_ considering everything they'd been through.

But he knew that this was important, so he let his little brother go on.

Sam drew in a shuddery breath and closed his eyes, a first tear finally slipping free from beneath dark lashes.

"God… Dean… I wasn't gonna do it… I thought about walking away- almost did until I heard your voicemail…"

Dean remembered now.

He recalled Zachariah's smug grin and the angel room with the ugly green wallpaper.

He remembered being angry and feeling betrayed and picking up his phone in a last attempt to mend the broken pile of rubble that used to be their brotherhood.

"I thought I had nobody left to turn to…" Sam admitted feebly, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I mean you made it pretty clear… that there was no turning back from what I did… that you'd pretty much_ end_ me if we ever crossed paths again–"

"Wait, **_what_**?!" Dean cut him off, eyebrows drawn up and gaze turning incredulous.

Sam didn't meet his gaze, eyes still fixated on the ground and posture hunched in shame and discomfort.

"It's alright, Dean. I mean it still hurt like hell to hear you say it, but you had every right to… I mean I _was_ a monster… I deserved it…"

"No, Sam- goddamnit, I didn't say _any_ of that."

"Dean-" Sam grimaced, more tears running down his cheeks as he threatened to fall apart right in front of his big brother.

"Sammy, I'm serious. It wasn't me," Dean's voice wavered with the realization that they had yet again gotten screwed over without even noticing it.

"Man, you gotta believe me. In the voicemail _I_ sent you, I told you that I was sorry, Sammy- I told you that I wasn't dad and that we would always be brothers–"

"No," Sam shook his head, pressing the a fist to his mouth and breathing in through his nose to keep from falling apart."You said I was a blood-sucking f-freak. A _vampire_ and that you were done trying to save me–"

"No, Sammy. That wasn't me, I swear. I'd never say anything like that."

Sam's whole frame was shaking and before Dean knew it, he was sobbing, long legs giving out beneath him as he crumbled to the ground and heaved for air.

His chest was on fire- every ragged intake of air feeling like a shard of glass was being forcefully driven into his lungs. "Hey, woah, easy there kiddo–"

Dean's hand on his neck, skin prickling beneath the gentle touch.

And Sam just couldn't believe his own stupidity- couldn't believe he had started the apocalypse because of a manipulative trick- one more thing that was taken from his control- one more moment of his life that was twisted and orchestrated by evil.

"Oh god… it's all m'fault…"

"Hey, shhh… calm down, you need to breathe…" Dean gently whispered, rubbing Sam's shivering shoulders as he sat down on the ground beside him. "It's not your fault, alright? You couldn't have known…"

But he _should_ have! He should have fucking known Dean would never just give up on him...

Oh god, he had been so incredibly stupid.

"Dean… I-I'm so… s-sorry," he sobbed out. "I should… h-have realized–"

"They tricked us," Dean breathed out, trying to get his own anger under control and balling his fingers into fists. "Both of us… these goddamn sons of bitches… I should have known Zachariah was up to something when he said you only needed a push in the right direction. I should have known..."

Sam just buried his face in his palms, shuddering against Dean's side as he continued to sob softly into his fingers, years of pent-up grief and sadness finally falling off his heart.

Just seeing his little brother falling apart like that was enough to make Dean want to revive that feathered asshole Zachariah just so he could kill him again.

Only slower, this time…

"Sammy, c'mon look at me," Dean gently urged, knowing he needed to look into his brother's eyes for what was coming next.

Sam did what was asked of him, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

Okay scratch that, Dean was going to rip every goddamn' feather from Zachariah's wings and make him eat them until he choked on them for putting that pained look of on his brother's face.

"I need you to listen closely now, okay?"

Sam bit his lower lip and nodded, looking all but four-years old.

"I know at the time you were all hyped-up and confused and I get why you'd think it was me, but for the record, I would _never_ tell you that you are some… some kind of monster… or that you are anything less than my brother–"

Sam choked out another pitiful sob and squeezed his eyes shut in shame, but Dean cupped the side of his face and lifted it up again.

"And I could _never_ hate you, you hear me? _Never_. Not under any circumstances, no matter how bad things turn between us." Dean shrugged a shoulder, as if that was just a fact, that didn't need further elaboration. "You're my little brother, Sammy. And even if you don't always like it, that's something that will never change."

Sam sniffed, eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he held Dean's profound gaze, soaking up all the emotion his words carried and letting it heal the open wounds on his heart.

"Oh and before I forget? I didn't _'throw our brotherhood in a trashcan'_ either…"

Dean could feel Sam tense up beside him, sucking in a shocked breath at the sudden change of topic.

"Dean, you don't have to–"

"Shut up and listen," Dean softly cut him off, figuring he might as well get this over with, now that they had officially gone beyond the point of unmanly embarrassment and crossed over into serious chick-flick material.

"God, Sammy… I was in a really bad place back then and I just- I felt so disappointed- so lonely- I didn't really think about it, I just acted on impulse. It was cruel of me to make you watch when I tossed it… I shouldn't have done that."

"Really?" Sam asked, sniffing as he wiped tears from his cheeks.

"Really," Dean gave back softly.

"Can I just, I mean- was it because of my m-memories in h-heaven or because of something else–"

"Sammy…" Dean shook his head, feeling as if a knife was being twisted in his guts.

He was reluctant to deny his brother an answer, but their trip to heaven was about the last thing he wanted to discuss right now.

The memory was still too painful to be dug out from the corners of his mind."It wasn't your fault, okay? I just had a hard time accepting that your version of... heaven and mine... well- that they are different."

Sam swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing beneath the sensitive skin of his throat.

There was a thick silence between them, until Sam broke it.

"That wasn't _my_ version of heaven, Dean."

"Sam–"

"If it had been my _real_ version of heaven," Sam continued, ignoring his brother's interruption. "It would have had Jessica…. Her pretty smile and the sound of her laughter. Our first date and the way she would talk too fast because she was nervous. And that one time we spent the Christmas break with her parents in Michigan."

Dean felt his throat constrict, vision starting to swim even as he fought against the sudden sting of tears.

Of couse, his brother would think of Jessica first, when talking about heaven. After all, she was the love of his life.

Dean had been stupid to ever assume his brother would cherish their lifetime on the road together enough to compete with the memories of the life he had led during his time at Stanford.

See, he had always clung desperately to that naïve idea that no matter how crappy their lives were, Sam and him would end up being reunited with all their lost friends and family members in heaven.

He had just always automatically assumed that if heaven existed, he would share _his_ one with Sammy.

And when he came to realize that _all_ of Sam's best memories were actually the ones where he had been **away** from Dean instead of the good times they had spent together, it had been the single most painful thing he had ever experienced apart from watching Sam die in Cold Oak.

It was just the worst kind of betrayal.

Now to hear Sam's tearful confession, it was almost to much to bear.

"If it had been my **_real_** heaven–" Sam continued imploringly, seeking out Dean's vibrant gaze and holding it. "It would have had you in it, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes, sucking in a quick breath.

"It would have had our prank wars and that time when we built the tree house in the back of Bobby's yard and when you sneaked me into that football game on my 12th birthday. It would have had endless movie marathons with trashy horror films on Bobby's couch. Hours of stargazing on top of the Impala's hood. That time when you let me drive the Impala for the first time. And that 4th of July where we set the field on fire and lit up the sky with fireworks."

And that was all it took to send Dean off the brink, features crumbling as the first tears started spilling from his eyes.

Before he knew what was happening, he was full-out crying with Sam slinging his octopus arms around his shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

Dean sank into the embrace without a word protest and closed his eyes, feeling a weight lift from his soul that he hadn't even realized he was carrying around with him.

He just held on tight, clutching at Sam's shirt and silently shedding more tears of a relief and bitter-sweet happiness while Sam did the same, holding on for dear life.

Just like they had done their whole lives.

"_I'm so sorry_," he whispered against Sam's shoulder, breath ghosting across his brother's neck.

He wasn't sure what exactly he was apologizing for, but he hoped that Sam would understand him anyway.

His brother just grabbed him harder, not letting go.

After a long while, Sam finally pulled away with a sniffle, meeting his teary-eyed gaze. "Yeah. Me too…I'm sorry too, Dean."

They exchanged another long and meaningful look, before the moment was broken.

Dean rubbed his flannel-clad arm across his face, hoping to erase the evidance of his crying.

"Huh..." he muttered as he bashfully rubbed the nape of his neck. "Awkward..."

"Shut up," Sam lightly teased back.

Dean cleared his throat, lifting hopeful eyes to meet his brother's gaze. "So... does that mean, you'll stay?"

Sam sniffed before breaking out into a watery smile. "Wouldn't wanna miss out on your top-level cuisine, would I now?"

Dean choked on a laugh-_ an honest-to-god laugh_, feeling giddy with emotion before dragging himself up from the ground and wiping the last remnant of tears from his glistening cheeks.

"Charlie's gonna be so pissed about missing out on the chick-flick…"

Sam snorted, letting himself be pulled up from the ground and dusting off his Jeans. "Don't worry. I'm sure she'll read all about it on some crazy fangirl's blog."

Dean grimaced at the idea. "Beckywinchester176?"

Sam sputtered "Dude, don't even joke about that!" causing Dean to snicker softly.

And as they walked back to the library side by side, teasing each other about who cried more and playfully shoving each other's shoulders, Dean thought that maybe – just _maybe_ they were finally back on the right track, doing what they did best.

Being brothers.

**The END**

* * *

Alright guys, I've had this story on my computer for a while, wasn't sure if I should post it or not, but yeah- here we go. I don't usually like to write humor, so this is totally new for me and I'm really not sure if I pulled it off. And since I can never end my stories on a purely positive note- I threw some drama into the mix. Please tell me if you liked it! Reviews are love! :D


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